


checking your pulse (just to feel it beat)

by sarahcakes613



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, M/M, Phone Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Spit As Lube, Uncle/Nephew Incest, Verbal Humiliation, it's fairly mild though, mostly use of the word bitch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-29 06:17:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19824256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarahcakes613/pseuds/sarahcakes613
Summary: Derek may be *the* alpha, but Peter will always be *his* alpha.





	checking your pulse (just to feel it beat)

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place shortly after Peter's resurrection, but for reasons, I've decided Derek already lives in the loft. ::Jeff Davis voice:: timeline, what timeline?

There are only two people who know he’s back, who even know he’s alive, so when Peter’s brand new smartphone rings, he eyes it with no small amount of suspicion. He stares at it until it stops ringing. It’s probably a wrong number, which they’ll realise when they get his voice mail, problem solved. Only, then his phone rings again.

He taps the answer icon, holds the phone gingerly next to his ear. It’s thinner than the last phone he had, fewer buttons as well, it’s going to take getting used to.

“Hello?”

He doesn’t hear a response at first.

“Hello? I’m pretty sure you’ve got the wrong number –“

_“Uncle Peter?”_

He pulls the phone away, looks at it in bewilderment. He brings it back to his ear.

“Derek?”

It’s more than he can take right now. He’s been alive for all of three days, most of which has been spent reasserting his existence in the world of bank accounts and photo identification cards. He’s got no energy left for dealing with his new alpha.

He hangs up. Turns off his phone for good measure. He tries to sleep, but his dreams are a series of vignettes he doesn’t understand and when he wakes up he doesn’t feel any better rested for it.

He spends the entire next day waiting for his phone to ring again. He doesn’t know if he’s relieved or disappointed when it doesn’t.

It doesn’t ring again for another two days.

He’s in bed when Derek calls this time. He answers it on the first chime.

“Derek?”

He can hear breathing, it’s uneven and stuttered.

“Derek, I can hear you breathing.”

_“Peter...Peter, you came back. You always said you’d come back for me. I didn’t know…I’m sorry.”_

“What are you sorry for, Derek?” He tries to modulate his voice down, soften it. His nephew had always responded better to velvet than iron.

_“Everything. The fire, Kate, killing you. I didn’t know. I didn’t know it would be like this. I –“_ He breaks off, whimpering.

“What didn’t you know would be like this, Derek?” He’s pretty sure he knows, but he wants to hear Derek say it.

_“The power. I don’t – I never wanted to be an alpha. It’s too much, uncle Peter. It’s too much, all the time.”_

Peter understands. He’s always known that someday he’d be an alpha and when he finally was, the surge of power had been intoxicating. He knows he was born to bear that burden, but his nephew, his sensitive, emotionally stunted nephew, he wasn’t built for it.

“There’s no putting the alpha power back in the bottle, nephew. It’s yours now, for better or worse.”

Derek whimpers again.

_“I don’t want it, I’d give it back if I could, please uncle Peter.”_

Peter doesn’t know what Derek wants him to say. He could offer to take it back the same way Derek took it, doesn’t imagine that will go over well. This whole conversation is confusing him, his head aching the way it always does these days.

“Oh pup,” he croons. “You should have thought of that before you slashed my throat.”

He hangs up before Derek has a chance to reply. He gets out of bed, pours himself a stiff drink. It won’t affect him, but he enjoys the taste, and it gives him something to fidget with as he contemplates.

Derek calls him again the next night. He answers, but doesn’t say anything.

The breathing is jagged this time, heavy panting breaths, followed by a vaguely wet slapping sound.

He tries to keep his voice light; keep the tension he feels out of it.

“I think you’ve got the wrong number this time, nephew.”

_“Peter, please.”_ It comes out as a low grunt. Not a wrong number, then.

It’s a misconception, the way former coma patients are shown on medical dramas. Memories don’t come back in a flood, but a slow trickle over time. He was still getting them back when he was killed, and the process is still ongoing. He remembers certain people and time periods better than others. He can remember most of his family, trusts the emotions his brain pushes forward when he thinks about each of them. Laura, frustration; Cora, affection. There is a blank where Derek should be, though. They were close once; he knows that much. He dreams of the two of them at baseball games, hunting together. His memories of his nephew are there, but there is no emotional attachment to them, like he’s watching someone else’s life.

There is something however, about hearing his name pour out of Derek’s mouth low and slow like honey that sends a shiver up his spine, and it feels familiar, right.

_“Are you there, Peter?”_

He’s been silent too long, caught up in trying to place the sense-memory he’s feeling right now. He clears his throat.

“I’m here, Derek. I don’t understand…why does this feel familiar?”

_“You don’t remember? I thought you’d remember.”_ Derek’s voice is high pitched, a note of panic running through it.

“What don’t I remember? Tell me, Derek, tell me what I don’t remember.” He’s insistent, reaches down and pushes as hard as he can against their tenuous alpha-beta connection. He can tell Derek feels it by the sharp intake of breath he hears through the phone.

_“You don’t remember us. Like this. Over the phone. We used to…you refused to do anything in the same room, but you used to let me listen. Please Peter, let me listen again.”_

The wet slapping sound is back, and Peter can picture it, Derek’s hand wrapped around himself, fingers sticky with lube, or maybe spit. His own mouth floods with saliva as he imagines it, and now Derek is the one pushing at their connection, and he feels Derek’s arousal and need flooding his mind.

And now the medical dramas are right, because suddenly his brain is inundated with imagery, memories from before the fire, he sees himself in bed, phone on the pillow next to him so both of his hands are free. He remembers late nights of talking Derek through every filthy fantasy he’s ever had, remembers soaking in the sounds of his nephew getting off on his words. He groans into the phone.

“I remember, oh sweetheart, I remember now. What do you want to hear, Derek?”

He taps on the phone to set it to speaker, props it up next to his hip. He shoves his shorts down to his knees, far enough down that he can spread his legs slightly, feet flat on the bed. His nephew wants an aural show, he’s going to get it.

“Do you want me to talk? Do you want me to tell you all the things I still want to do to you, want you to do to me? Or do you just want to hear me fucking into my hand, hear the way my breathing changes as I get close, the sounds I make as I come all over myself? Tell me what you want, pup.” The last word comes out in a growl, and Derek’s responding whine is beautiful.

_“I want to hear you come, please Peter, I’m so close, I need to hear you come.”_ He can hear Derek, can picture his hand working faster now, stripping his cock, rubbing his other hand across his chest, or maybe scratching lightly down one furred thigh.

Peter licks his own hand, reaches down and begins slowly stroking his shaft. He would normally take his time, tease himself with light caresses, but his dear nephew is already desperately waiting so he speeds up, one hand tugging lightly on his balls, the other on his cock, gripping it so tight it almost hurts. He bucks up into it, hips thrusting as he fucks into his hand. It isn’t going to take him long at this rate. He reaches up, lets out a claw, runs it around and over his nipples, arching into the needle-like sensation.

“Can you hear me, pup? I’m getting close, I’m going to come for you Derek, just like you need, sweetheart.”

He twists his wrist, focusing on the head of his cock now, draws a claw tipped finger down and back up his frenulum and with one final tug, he feels his entire body unwind and he is coming, spurts of come hitting his hand, his stomach, the sheets.

_“I can hear you Peter, it sounds so good, I missed this so much, fuck, I missed you, I can’t – ahhh!”_

There is a lull on the phone as Derek catches his breath.

_“Thank you, uncle Peter.”_ His voice is subdued now, like it always was when they were done. When the guilt and worry crept back in.

“Oh no, thank you, pup. This was a lovely way to get a memory back.” His voice is like a caress, reaching through the phone to calm Derek’s nerves. “I can feel your guilt from here, pup, I want you to stop that.”

_“I just – I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry. You always used to say…you were right. This was wrong.”_

“Fuck that.” Peter snaps into the phone. “It was only wrong because of how young you were. You’re all grown up now, Derek.” He tries to soften his voice. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of, sweetheart. I thought by now you’d have realised that.”

There’s a rustling sound, Derek putting a shirt on, or maybe burrowing under a blanket.

_“Can I…can I call you again tomorrow?”_

Peter sighs.

“Yes, Derek, you can call me again tomorrow.”

He wipes a sheet haphazardly across the mess on his stomach and gets out of bed, reaching again for the whiskey. He’s got a lot of thinking to do before tomorrow.

* * *

Tomorrow comes and goes with no phone call. Peter knows his nephew, knows Derek is probably wrapping himself up in a web of shame. More memories have come back to him and he has a clearer idea of what their relationship was, what it meant to them both. Peter had had no moral compunctions about their dynamic, nor had Talia. Her only request had been that he wait until Derek finished high school before properly mating him, and that had been his plan up until the fire.

Derek though, Derek had always struggled with his desires. He’d seek Peter out, call him, come to the sound of his voice, choked sobs as he let himself go. And then he would hide away, ashamed of the strength of his love for his uncle, until he couldn’t stay away any longer, and the cycle would begin again. Derek always let his humanity bleed too much into his wolf, let his human conscience be the guide even in matters of pack dynamics. Peter can’t imagine the frustration facing the new alpha now as he tries to stick to his human morals all while the alpha power surges through him, calling for more freedom, less control.

He’s a patient man, he believes a willing submission to be that much sweeter, but he’s admittedly relieved when his phone rings again the next evening.

“I missed you yesterday, pup.” He purrs into the phone. He’s not at home this time, but he’s in a quiet part of town, no one around, no open businesses creating ambient noise for Derek to pick up on.

_“I’m sorry, I…I needed some time. To think.”_

“And?”

_“You were right, uncle Peter, you always were. I want this, I want you. I just…I don’t know how to let go.”_

“It’s okay, Derek. Even big strong alphas need guidance sometimes. Will you let me guide you, pup? Will you let me in?”

He knocks lightly, a one-two rap that echoes on the metal sliding door. There are footsteps, but they stop when they reach the door.

“Open the door, pup. Let me in.” He’s ended the phone call, says it softly, but he knows Derek can hear him, can hear him breathing measured beats.

The door creaks as Derek pulls it to one side. He stands in front of Peter, head down like he is unable to look Peter in the eye. When he speaks, it is to the floor.

“What are you doing here?”

“I came back for you Derek, like you said. Did you think I wouldn’t want to see you? That I would be content to only have you over the phone?” He tsks, and Derek’s ears pinken. “Oh no, pup, you’re going to let me in and we are going to have so. Much. Fun.” He trails one clawed finger down Derek’s cheek, taps his mouth.

Derek parts his lips slightly, his tongue darting out to lick at Peter’s finger. He flushes, pulling back, stands aside so Peter can enter the loft.

Derek is only partially dressed, which makes sense considering the direction their phone calls have been going. He’s in low-slung sweatpants, his chest bare. Even in his bare feet he stands a couple of inches over Peter, but his posture is slouched, like he is trying to hold himself in, appear smaller. He looks like an omega trying to convince an alpha that he’s not a threat, Peter thinks.

He toes off his shoes, crosses over to the bed. He sits on the edge, legs apart. He gestures between them.

“You know,” he says casually, “I feel like I never really had the opportunity to get a good look at you before you killed me. Come here, be a good boy and let me see how you turned out.

Derek winces at the reminder, but walks over to him, stands in front of him awkwardly, spinning slowly when Peter twirls a finger. He runs his eyes hungrily over his nephew, taking in the lean muscle, the stark black tattoo that stretches across his shoulder blades. The smattering of curly dark hair that starts just below his collarbone and runs down his flat stomach into the waistband of his pants.

“Oh, you did grow into a beautiful thing, didn’t you.” he hums. Derek flushes, his shoulders coming up in a hunch.

There are a few different ways he could do this, and he’s contemplated them all. He’s thought about what he wants, what he knows Derek wants, weighed that against what Derek _needs_ , and he’s come to one solution.

He spreads his legs further apart, pats his thigh.

“Lie down, pup.”

Derek’s eyes narrow, his brow furrowing in confusion. He grins up at his nephew, letting just a hint of fang glimmer through.

“I said _lie down._ ” He infuses his voice with as much alpha authority as he can and despite his beta stature it seems to work, because Derek yelps and nearly throws himself onto Peter’s lap, face down in the bed next to him.

Peter runs a hand down Derek’s spine soothingly.

“Here’s what’s going to happen, sweetheart. You killed me, and because I am a benevolent and loving uncle, I have forgiven you. That doesn’t mean you don’t need to be disciplined. I used to tell you about how I was going to discipline you, didn’t I?”

Derek turns his head so his answer is not muffled by the mattress.

“You said…you said you would spank me. To teach me my place.”

“That’s right, Derek. Out there,” he gestures expansively to indicate the loft, the town, “you’re the big bad alpha. But in here,” he pats the bed, “in here, you’re my bitch.”

Derek’s heart is beating fast now, the flush spreading down his neck. He’s been holding his body stiff, but it slowly relaxes against Peter until the only stiffness is the bulge in his pants, which is pressed against Peter’s thigh.

Peter continues.

“I’m going to spank you like the naughty boy you are, and you’re going to count for me. Let’s say seven, one for every week I was dead, hm? Does that sound fair?”

Derek nods. Peter sighs.

“I need you to say it, pup.”

“It sounds fair.” Derek is tense again, waiting for the first blow.

Peter raises his hand, cups it, brings it down hard on the left side of Derek’s ass.

“One!” Derek breathes out.

Peter repeats the motion on the right side, and Derek counts again.

“Two!”

Peter runs a finger along the waistband of Derek’s sweatpants and then tugs them, forcing them down beneath the swell of Derek’s ass. His mouth waters looking at it, lightly furred and slightly pink from the swats, round and creamy and begging for his teeth to sink into it. He brings his hand down two more times in succession, harder this time.

“Three, four!” Derek gasps. He’s still hard, and his hips are twitching as he tries to prevent himself from rutting against Peter.

“This has always been where you belonged,” Peter comments, casual, like they’re sitting at the kitchen table. “Under my hand, you were always meant to be mine. I knew it, your mother knew it, you knew it. There’s no point in fighting it, nephew.” He smacks Derek twice more again, just below the curve of his ass this time, fingers curling to touch the delicate skin of his inner thighs each time.

“Five, six!” Derek has given in to the sensations, bucking up to meet Peter’s hand and then thrusting his hips down to rub against Peter’s thigh.

Peter rubs at Derek’s skin, now almost bright red everywhere his hand has landed. He pulls at the sweatpants again, and Derek wriggles against him as he pulls the pants down to Derek’s knees. He dips a hand down between his nephews’ thighs, tugs lightly at Derek’s sac, hanging low and heavy between his legs.

Derek is leaking now, Peter can smell it, precum beading at the tip of his cock and dripping into the floor beneath them. He swipes his hand over the head of Derek’s cock, spreading the wetness down the shaft. He curls his hand loosely, pumps up and down once, twice.

He raises his other hand, brings it down with a loud _smack_ , putting all of his considerable strength into it. He simultaneously tightens the hand around his nephews’ cock, jerking it roughly.

“Se-seven! Ah, ah, fuck, uncle Peter!” Derek’s back arches as he is unable to hold back the tidal wave crashing over him and he comes, shooting hot across Peter’s hand and the floor.

Peter draws out his cum-streaked hand, runs it down the crease of Derek’s ass. He’s not gentle, doesn’t wait for Derek to calm down before he is prodding at Derek’s hole with his thumb.

“I remember describing so many scenarios,” he muses, “I had so many ideas for our first night together. How I would position you, what I would use to open you up. And here we are and I still can’t decide. Tell me, nephew. Which of those fantasies was your favourite?”

He continues stroking at Derek’s hole, rubbing his thumb around the rim, while he waits for Derek to coalesce his thoughts into a coherent answer.

“There was one –“ Derek’s breath hitches, his face is half buried in the bedsheets, but turned to one side so his voice is not muffled. “There was one time you told me you were going to make sure I felt it. You were going to put me on my knees and fuck – fuck my face, and you said I better be good and sloppy because that was going to be the only lube you gave me when you fucked me open.”

Derek’s body is twitching again, minute trembles in his hips and thighs as he talks. Peter groans, his cock jumping at the thread of desperation he can hear in his nephew’s voice.

“Is that what you want, pup? You don’t want me to be sweet and slow and open you up with my fingers and tongue first?”

Derek slides off of his uncle’s lap and onto the floor, facing Peter. He puts his hands on Peter’s knees, looking up at him imploringly.

“You asked me which fantasy was my favourite. That was my favourite. Please – please, I…I want to feel it. I can take it, please.”

How can Peter say no when his alpha kneeling in front of him, begging so prettily? His eyes are shiny and welling with tears, like all it would take is one solid slap to send them rolling down his face.

Peter pops open the button on his jeans, slowly unzips. Derek’s eyes are laser focused on his crotch, pink tongue peeking out from between his plush lips, and oh yes, Peter is going to enjoy this.

“Open your mouth, puppy.” Peter murmurs, standing up. Derek obeys immediately, lips parting as he sits back on his heels. His legs are apart and he is already half-hard again, cock lying thick against his thigh.

Peter doesn’t bother removing his pants entirely, just shoves them down enough so that the jagged metal of the zipper won’t catch anywhere delicate. He grasps the tip of his cock, brings it up to smear precum on his nephew’s open mouth. Derek groans, licks his lips. Peter slips his cock in between those lips slowly, letting Derek get used to the hot weight on his tongue. He pushes, forcing Derek to breath heavily through his nose as Peter’s cock invades his throat. Peter does not stop until Derek’s nose is flush against his stomach. He holds Derek there for one second, two, before pulling him up until just the tip of his cock is between Derek’s lips.

“You might want to hold on, sweetheart,” he grins down at his nephew. “You’re about to go for a ride.”

Derek wraps his hands around Peter’s thighs, looks up at Peter through long eyelashes. Peter thrusts his hips forward, sliding his cock all the way down Derek’s throat in one move, pulls out, repeats it, over and over. Derek’s mouth is sealed tight around him, Peter’s hands are tangled in Derek’s hair, guiding his head up and down. His throat is a velvety vise grip, squeezing Peter. Peter revels in the sounds Derek makes as he chokes on the thick cock, the wet gasps as he struggles to breathe around it. He draws it out slowly, reluctantly, and begins fucking Derek’s mouth, letting him run his tongue around and around.

“That’s right Der, lick my cock, slobber all over it like a good bitch, get it wet for me. I’m not going to waste lube on a needy bitch like you, gonna fuck you with nothing but your own spit for slick.”

Derek moans around his cock, sending vibrations up and down the shaft. His own cock is hard and dripping again, and he is humping frantically against Peter’s foot.

Peter flexes his foot, nudging Derek with his toes.

“I don’t even need to fuck you, do I, puppy? I bet you could come again just from sucking me off.” He tsks, pushing his foot up, toes rubbing up against Derek’s balls.

Derek whines and he looks down to see the tears have started falling freely now, his nephew’s face streaked with tear tracks from desperation and overstimulation. He hasn’t stopped sucking Peter though, his mouth open wide, those lush pink lips stretched to accommodate his uncle’s thick shaft, his throat working to swallow the excess of precum and saliva, nostrils flared to breathe in the scent of their combined arousal.

He could do this forever, using his nephew’s throat as a cocksleeve, but he’s in a giving mood, so he’s going to give Derek exactly what he’s asked for. He pulls out, pulls away, leaving Derek sprawled on the floor in front of him.

“You have ten seconds to get on the bed in the position you want, or I’m going to take you right here on the floor.” He growls, pitching his voice low.

Derek responds beautifully, his whole body shivering. He tugs off his sweatpants, which were still halfway down his legs, and crawls up on to the bed on his hands and knees. He kneels in the middle of the bed, elbows propped up on his pillow, hands braced against the bars of the headboard.

Peter takes a moment to appreciate the vision in front of him, his nephew is a long line of carved stone, tan skin and dark hair over his entire body. He is trying and failing to hold himself still, his muscles quivering with taut tension, his cock jerking under the careful inspection of Peter’s eyes.

He doesn’t move for long enough that Derek starts trying to explain himself, worried he has made the wrong choice.

“I know it’s easier if I’m on my back, I just. I want to feel you covering me, want you to mount me, be my alpha, please.”

“Oh sweetheart, I’m already your alpha,” Peter slurs, his fangs out and eyes flashing at the honorific as he moves closer to the bed and the body in it. “I’m just taking a minute to enjoy the sight of you presenting for me, how beautiful you look, before I completely fucking wreck you.”

Derek shudders, his back muscles rippling and his ass bouncing as Peter climbs onto the bed behind him. He’s still near fully dressed, his cock jutting out from his open jeans. He pulls his shirt off and wads it up near Derek’s head to better surround the alpha with the beta’s scent. Derek presses his nose into it, inhaling deeply, the smell soothing the itch inside him.

Peter scratches his nails down Derek’s spine and Derek arches his back, his ass swaying. Peter spreads Derek’s cheeks, looks at the small furl of muscle. It’s barely open, and Peter’s cock throbs as he positions himself.

“Last chance, pup.” He whispers.

“Do it, alpha, please.”

Peter grips Derek’s ass in one hand, uses the other to guide his cock to Derek’s hole. He is still wet from spit and precum, enough that he is able to push the tip of his cock into Derek with ease. He stops, just the tip inside, and looks down at where Derek’s hole is stretched open by his cock. He runs one finger around Derek’s rim, watches as the muscle clenches and then relaxes further, allowing him to slip another few inches in.

“Peter, please, I want it all. I can take it, alpha.”

“Oh no, pup,” he breathes out. “You should see yourself right now. Your hole is gripping me so tightly baby, I am going to savour this. You stay right where you are pup, don’t you move.”

He pulls out, pushes back in another inch. He rolls his hips, forcing his entire length into Derek in a slow grind that has Derek whimpering, trying to fuck himself back onto his uncle without letting go of the headboard. Derek is tight, so fucking tight, his channel gripping Peter’s cock like it was made to measure. He is flush against Derek’s ass now, and he starts a slow rhythm, pumping his cock out and back in, changing the angle slightly until he feels it drag over that small bump, hears the change in Derek’s breathing as his cock presses against his prostate.

He pulls all the way out now, and Derek keens at the loss, but he shoves back in fast, and now he is speeding up, plunging his cock deeper and deeper, a relentless pace as he chases his own pleasure with no regard for his nephew’s.

Derek’s cock is slapping against his stomach with every thrust, the headboard hitting the wall hard, sending flakes of plaster raining down onto the floor. His hands are still clenched around the bars, knuckles white as he holds on.

Peter leans over Derek, blanketing his nephew’s body with his own, his open zipper pressing patterns into Derek's skin, a mimicry of teeth biting into his plump ass.

“Tell me,” he whispers directly into Derek’s ear, “is this what you imagined? Alone in this bed, fucking your hand, is this what you pictured?”

“It’s…better. So much better than I ever imagined.” Derek gasps out.

Peter roars, hips moving even faster, his balls slapping against Derek’s ass with every thrust. He’s close, it won’t take much now. Derek is close too, he can feel it thrumming through their connection, the staticky rise of thunder growing. He brings his hand, the one still coated in Derek’s cum, down to the younger man’s throat. His claws are out as he grips it lightly at first, then squeezes. He can feel Derek’s pulse beating rabbit-fast against his hand, but Derek makes no move to get away. His nose is still shoved into Peter’s shirt, one hand underneath them, fisting his cock furiously.

Peter lets his fangs drop again, runs his tongue over them. Derek’s tattoo gleams up at him, the black ink burned into the younger man’s skin seems to move, the spirals twisting. His gums itch, he aches to tear into it. He is projecting his want so strongly Derek can sense it.

“You can…uncle Peter, bite me, you can bite me, please. Make me your…” his breath falters, but he continues. “Make me your bitch.” He cries out.

Peter curves over the nape of Derek’s neck, rasping his tongue over a patch of sweat-salted skin. He doesn’t hold back then, bites down firmly, blood running into his mouth and down Derek’s shoulder blade.

That’s the final push Derek needed, his climax punching through him as he is caught between Peter’s teeth at his neck and claws at his throat. He wails, every muscle in his body clenching down as he shoots, cum streaking along his stomach and the bedding below them.

Peter doesn’t let up, squeezes his nephew’s throat tighter still, tongue lapping at the blood already clotting in his mouth. He is so close and he’s torn between wanting to come deep inside his nephew, wanting to leave the younger man imbued with his scent from within, and wanting to watch his cum splatter all over Derek’s ass and back, wanting to rub it into his skin.

Again, it’s like Derek can sense his thoughts.

“Give it to me alpha, please, I wan’ you to come in me, fill me with it, wan’ everyone to smell you on me.” He is slurring his words, fuckdrunk and loose with adrenaline.

Peter’s orgasm rolls over him like a tidal wave, he is balls-deep in Derek’s ass and he can feel every spurt of hot cum pouring out of him and into his nephew’s eager body. It seems to go on for minutes before he is finally drained, and he slips out of Derek and falls down beside him, strings cut, limbs slack.

Derek’s eyes are open, staring at him. They are red-rimmed, but shining with awe, the way he used to look when Peter would come home from a trip with a gift for him. Peter reaches out, tugs at his shirt, but Derek still has a firm grip on it and won’t let go.

Peter arches an eyebrow at him. Derek blushes, drops his eyes, but releases the fabric. Peter gently takes it, swipes it across Derek’s stomach to wipe up the sticky cum.

He draws the now cum-stained shirt over his head and Derek’s nostril’s flare, his eyes widen and flash red as he takes in the sight and smell of his uncle, who has just willingly coated himself in Derek’s alpha scent.

Peter smiles wryly at Derek’s surprise.

“It’s like I’ve been saying, darling. You were always meant to be mine, just as I was always meant to be yours. You can kill me a thousand times over and my wolf will still come home to you.”

He chucks his nephew under the chin, and Derek looks up at him through tear-tangled eyelashes. He’s gnawing at his lip like he wants to say something, but is afraid to.

“This could be your home.” It comes out in a rush, words falling from his mouth in a messy stutter as he tries to say it all at once. “I can’t – Peter, I don’t know how to be an alpha. I can’t fix it, I can’t make it stop, but you…well, like you said. I need guidance. Stay here? With me?”

Peter strokes Derek’s face, running a thumb up one cheekbone. He leans down, licks at Derek’s face with a pointed tongue, savouring the salty-sweet taste of tears.

“Oh, my darling boy,” he murmurs into Derek’s skin, “I’m not going anywhere.”


End file.
